"We have all a better guide in ourselves, if we would attend to it, than any other person can be."

― Jane Austen, Mansfield Park

I had never been so astonished in my life. I stared at them, quite gormless, until Elrond decided to take control of the situation.

"I am Elrond Peredhel, and this is Gil-galad, the High King of the Elves in the West," he said, gesturing to the other dark haired elf. "And this is our patient." The Balrog Slayer looked at me, entirely unimpressed. He was sitting on a long narrow table that had been made into an operating table. I saw that there was already blood on the white cloth that covered it, and a few spots on his chest that had not dried.

Thavron hit me on the arm and I looked at him, confused, until I realised I had not moved. I curtseyed clumsily and deeply.

"I would be most grateful, Mistress Healer, if you could help my friend. We have need of him," said the High King. He sounded almost weary.

I stepped a little closer and looked at the Balrog Slayer's wound. He was broad and muscular, his skin golden and hairless, and he moved so little I thought he could be a statue. The wound of his chest was infected, and held artificially open with stents. Whatever the weapon, it had sliced through several muscles. The wound started on his left shoulder muscle, spanned across his pectoralis major and into his abdominal muscles. It was a long wound, to be sure, and deep but surely this was not beyond the skill of an Elvish healer? However, the wound also looked strange to me - and there was a smell of burning in the air. I looked at Elrond quizzically.

"I have need of extra hands, and Healer Thavron, who is known to us, suggested your hands as the quickest - and smallest," said Elrond. His long, rather beautiful hair was pulled back in a series of strange interlooping knots, and smelled, quite distinctly, of oranges. His eyes were the colour of the sea and he had a sad, but friendly feel to him. I instantly warmed to him. The Balrog Slayer, on the other hand, seemed to be vibrating with hostility. I wondered if he was scared. I had seen, and comforted a lot of fearful men in my time, but never an elf. "The blade shattered as it entered him, and pulling out the pieces has proved a challenge."

The Balrog Slayer closed his eyes. Up close, there was something quite severe about his features. He was lightly sweating, I noticed. He must be in a lot of pain, I thought.

"You tried with two pairs of hands and now wish to try with three?" I asked, trying not to sound as alarmed as I felt. What could possibly need three pairs of hands? I had never heard of the like. "And am I correct in thinking you are using acid?" The smell was pungent, and I had noticed a vial with a warning in Elvish written on it on a stand behind Elrond.

"Most observant, Mistress Healer. Yes, it is an acid of my own making. Our patient here has an unusual condition-"

" Out with it, Elrond ," snapped the Balrog Slayer, in Elvish. I flinched at the anger in his voice.

"He heals very quickly. The Eldar are known to be strong and hale, and heal faster than Men, but our patient's ability to heal is too quick. It is a strength that has now become a weakness. The Orcish blade's poison has gone deep, and the fragments have been inside him for almost a week. The poison will be straightforward to remedy… once we remove the remaining fragments of the blade."

"And the acid? You are using it to burn through…?" I said, thinking out loud and then realising with horror.

"His body is healing round the fragments, encasing them in muscle and tissue, quicker than we can remove them," said Thavron in a low voice. I looked at him, aghast. "The fragments are small, the size of your fingernails, and there are many left." He gestured to a tin vessel on Elrond's stand that contained several jagged pieces of ugly looking black metal.

"I have burnt through much of his muscle already," Elrond said, looking at me intently. I understood - if we did not retrieve the rest of the fragments in one last go, Elrond would have to burn through much more than muscle and tissue, perhaps his internal organs - perhaps doing irreparable damage. I shuddered.

" Laurefindelë, lie back ," instructed Elrond. Laurefindelë was a beautiful name, I thought, abstractly, but it sounded like Quenya over Sindarin. Laurefindelë lay down and Elrond pointed out where the remaining pieces were along the open wound.

"You look full young to be a healer," said Laurefindelë, idly, his eyes closed. He sounded as if he were making conversation at a social event, not preparing to have acid poured on an open wound.

"Minnow is the best healer I have ever trained, my lord," said Thavron. "She is most capable." I looked up at him, surprised. Only three days ago, he had told me I was the most impertinent student he had ever suffered and I was giving him grey hairs. Both, I supposed, could be true. I looked down at our patient, feeling proud but nervous of the task ahead of us.

His eyes opened and startled me. They were brighter than a human's eyes, as if there was a light behind the silvery orbs. I felt a shiver go down my back. What was he thinking?

"Do you think you can manage the task?" asked Elrond gently. I paused. A thought had occurred to me, but I wasn't sure if I dared air it. But Thavron had just told me that I was the best healer he had trained, so I took a deep breath.

"We need a lodestone," I announced.

The Balrog Slayer locked eyes with me again. "And where exactly are you going to get a lodestone?" he asked, seething. "They do not grow on trees."

"The dwarves," I said, confidently. There was a long pause.

"We have not had dealings with the dwarves since the dark ages," spoke Gil-galad, suddenly. "But I do know that they will not give up something as precious to them as a lodestone. They do not like to share. Certainly not with an elf."

"There is one who will lend me a lodestone, not to an elf, perhaps, but to a friend." I made eye contact with Thavron, and he looked at me, shocked. This was not encouraging, but I went on. "If there are many pieces of metal beneath the surface, we should not risk leaving any behind. Once you have… administered the acid, we can use the lodestone to pull out the rest of the fragments."

There was a pause.

"You are friends with dwarves?" asked Laurefindelë, raising an eyebrow at me.

I wasn't sure how to answer that. "They're our allies. And yes, there are some I have met who have been kind. The one I have befriended helped a blacksmith who had lost his arm. He taught the blacksmith how to continue to use his forge. I am certain he will lend me a lodestone."

There was another long pause until Elrond answered. "There has long been enmity between our peoples."

He was being very diplomatic, I thought. "I will not mention why I need it and the debt will be mine. I will return in an hour. Is this acceptable to you?" I asked.

Elrond contemplated me for a whole minute while I tried not to fidget, and then nodded. I glanced at Thavron and together we left the tent hurriedly.

"This is a wild goose chase, Elrond," I heard Laurefindelë mutter as we left. "Have you ever heard of a human girl making friends with a dwarf?"

I was beginning to doubt myself when we trotted up to the dwarves' camp twenty minutes later. Thavron had not said a word to me, which was alarming in itself. My heart was beating heavily, and I was sweating uncomfortably. However, the night duty guard took us to Yagel without question. He was not abed, but in a work tent, sitting at a table with a lantern, cleaning some instruments I did not recognise. The tent was very low for us humans, and Yagel turned round in surprise as we entered.

"I am sorry to disturb you at this late hour, Master Dwarf, but I need your help," I said, breathlessly.

"I did not expect to see you so soon, Minnow. Sit down, lassie and take a drink. Dinnae fash, 'tis only water!" he cried, laughing as he thrust a tankard at me. I took a big gulp and passed it to Thavron.

"I did not expect to see you again so soon either, or call for a favour," I said, honestly. "But needs must. I need to borrow a lodestone."

There was a pause.

"And what makes you think I have a lodestone about my person?" Yagel said, amused.

"You don't?" I asked, weakly. I did not know anything about the naturally occurring magnetised metal apart from what Yagel had told the blacksmith. I had not even considered that he wouldn't have one. He had half a workshop on the table in front of him, and he had told the blacksmith that the dwarves carried the makings of a forge with them wherever they went. Surely that included lodestones?

"Of course I do, lass. But why do you need one? Surely you've not lost all the hairpins in that tangled mess of yours?" he teased. I touched the curly hair under my headscarf reflexively, and smiled at him. As if I had hairpins in my barnet in an army camp!

"Because I'm your friend and my patient has so much metal stuck in him that we do not think we can get it all out," I said, almost breathlessly. Yagel looked at me suspiciously.

"And is this patient a pointy-eared bastard?" he asked, astutely. How did he know, I wondered. Perhaps it was because Thavron and I were both so nervous and it was the middle of the night.

"I haven't really… looked at his ears," I said, evasively. Thavron snorted. What could I say? "I was looking at… He's quite, you know, they're all quite, sort of pretty, I mean… shiny." Thavron groaned next to me. I hadn't realised I'd been so affected by the elves, but between the smell of Elrond's hair and the silver eyes of the Balrog Slayer, I did feel a bit wobbly.

"Oh, I see how it is. You've been off making new friends, eh?" asked Yagel, amused.

"I'm a healer," I said, a bit limply. "I heal. Thavron and I have to heal. It's what we do."

Yagel smiled at me.

"Well, lass, I can understand that. I miss my forge like nobody's business. I can lend you a lodestone, even if I don't like who you're healing. I suppose they can't much help their nature, either," he said. "Stay here." He returned in a few minutes with a long piece of metal, wrapping in a cloth of velvet. Underneath the velvet was another wrapping, this time of silver. He warned us to keep it wrapped when not in use.

"I better carry it," said Thavron, holding out his hands. "It's very heavy."

"Is it strong?" I asked Yagel.

"Oh aye, it's strong," said Yagel. "It'll attract any and all metal near it. Bring it back before dawn. And good luck, lassie."

We walked back through the dwarves camp, striding quickly. I did not know how many hours there were before dawn, but I knew we had to hurry.

"Please do not repeat what I said about the elves being pretty or shiny," I pleaded with Thavron.

"Minnow, no one is unaffected by the beauty of the elves, do not be embarrassed," muttered Thavron. "Truly, Minnow. When Lord Elrond called me to his tent and told me he had heard I was the head healer, I almost fell over."

"You fell over?" I repeated. I could not imagine Thavron losing his head, even if it was over the most attractive person I had ever met. "Did he realise why?"

"He pretended not to and that's good enough for me," he replied. "Andhen I walked into the tent and saw the Balrog Slayer up close… he looked like a painting."

"I knew you preferred blonds," I said after a few minutes of silence.

"That's enough cheek from you, young lady," he said, with a smile.

"Now that I know I'm the best healer you've ever trained, I think you have given me licence to be as impertinent as I wish!" I said, smiling back at him, as we crossed our healer's tents and made our way closer to the elves.

"Need I remind you that you're still in training? And do not let it go to your head, I had to say something to the elves," he told me, begrudgingly. "If you pull this off…"

The rest of the sentence hung in the air.

With a heart thumping in my chest, I entered the tent again.

"She's back," said Laurefindelë, surprised. He was lying on his side, looking remarkably casual about the situation. Gil-galad was sitting on a stool next to him, and Elrond busying himself with his medicine.

"With the lodestone," said Elrond, incredulously, looking at the heavy object Thavron was carrying. He exchanged a look with Gil-galad and Laurefindelë. Clearly they had not thought I would return. I wondered at their surprise, but was not offended. It was too strange a situation.

Thavron unwrapped the velvet cloth from the lodestone.

"That's mithril," said Gil-galad, suddenly. "Did you steal this, child? I cannot imagine a dwarf would ever hand this over."

"What? No! You are very suspicious… uh, my lord," I said. I was not used to being around royalty. He did not seem to be angry though.

Elrond handed me a small pair of forceps.

"Well Thavron, it is time for your second attempt, Minnow's first, and my fifth," said Elrond. I was horrified that Laurefindelë had been through this so many times before. "I will pour the acid, starting at the shoulder," he said. "As soon as the wound is open, Thavron, you will unwrap the lodestone from its protective covering, and follow my hand as I pour the acid down the wound, ending at his abdominal muscles."

"No pain relief?" I asked.

"There is none that work on one such as myself," said our patient, looking at me keenly. I wondered if his greater healing powers meant that many of our herbs or concoctions would simply not work on him. But as he lay back down again, he spoke again in Sindarin. "So Elrond, I am to be operated on for a fifth time, and this time my team of surgeons includes a child with pillow creases on her face, stew on her dress, and grass stains on her apron. Truly, your faith in the second-born is strong, or perhaps this is long overdue retribution for putting you through so many sword practice drills when you were an elfling?"

"Be quiet, Laurefindelë," muttered Elrond. "We must be careful our forceps do not become attached to the lodestone. Our patient's muscles will begin to bond in mere seconds."

I would have blushed, or snapped at our patient, but after an initial flare of anger, I told myself he was nervous and I was an easy target. I straightened my shoulders and moved to the other side of the table, and nodded at each of them. Elrond held out the vial of acid in one hand, pulled the skin back with another, and gently poured.

It can only have taken thirty seconds at most, but it felt like an Age. Laurefindelë made no noise, nor did he move, but the pain must have felt immense. Elrond was masterful. I have never seen such precision. My face was close to Laurefindelë's torso, spying the fragments in the wound. Thavron held the lodestone a few inches above the skin, and with a clang, they hit and stuck to the long piece of metal the healer held. I followed behind, pulling out smaller fragments that remained in the wake of the lodestone.

As I worked, I watched as his muscles and tissue bonded back together. Even after all that had happened this strange night, this was astonishing. I could see his body healing itself in front of me.

At last we came to his abdomen and the end of the wound. The lodestone was covered in fragments of metal, and I had filled the tin with even smaller pieces, merely metal shavings. The wound was completely clean of fragments.

I beamed at everyone, too exhausted to speak.

"Thank you Elrond," said Laurefindelë, sound weary, as he gently touched the skin around his wound. "It feels cleaner. Thank you Healer Thavron, your reputation is deserved. And thank you Mistress Healer. You have been a revelation."

I nodded, quite pleased with that compliment.

"You have done well," said Elrond, to me.

"Indeed. You may ask for a reward, child," said Gil-galad.

I stood in front of them, rather stupidly, looking between them. The elves were offering me a reward? I struggled to understand. Perhaps this was their way of saying thank you, but I don't think either Thavron or I had reckoned with any sort of.. Elvish gift. I looked at Thavron and he nodded, encouraging.

"A reward?"

"I will give you anything you desire within my power," said the king. I blinked, amazed at this generosity.

"What I want… what I want most is… Actually, I really want a bath," I admitted.

Gil-galad stared at me. "A bath?" he repeated.

"Surely healing me is worth more than a bath," muttered Laurefindelë.

"With whatever Elrond uses in his hair. And some nice soap. Please," I continued.

Gil-galad stared at me, and nodded to someone behind me. The captain who had led me to the tent had reappeared. He nodded and said he would set one up in the antechamber, gesturing at a slit in the tent wall behind the king. This tent was clearly affixed to other tents, I had just not realised due to the dark.

"It has been a long time, Elrond, since I have met a human girl, but I think it is safe to say that one is very odd indeed," said Laurefindelë. "Although she is right, she is in desperate need of a bath."

It was tempting to snap at him, but I bit back a retort.

Thavron volunteered to return the lodestone to Yagel and set off. I watched as Elrond applied a strange smelling paste to Glorfindel's wound to kill the infection, explaining to me what he was doing as he went. I asked questions about whether it would work on humans as well, and a few basic questions about the difference between healing an elf and a human, until the captain returned, and took me to the antechamber. A metal bathtub with the hottest water I had encountered in quite some time stood in front of me. I touched the water with my hand and almost cried.

The captain left me and I looked around the room, realising it was supposed to be a bedroom. There was a cot in the corner, and there was only one lantern in this room, making it much darker. Well, I would wash quickly, and then the elves could rest here.

I unwrapped the scarf I used, and started to untie my hair as I kicked off my shoes, turning round with a jump.

Elrond was standing at the entrance to the antechamber looking at me, clearly embarrassed. I had not heard him come in.

"Is it… I apologise, is it your people's custom to hide your hair?" he asked me.

I shook my head. "My hair is not so obedient as yours, I think," I said, unwrapping my braids. "It is better to cover it as I work. We ran out of the soap that we use for hair and bodies. We only have the soap we use to clean our hands and our instruments."

He held out two vials. One, he explained, was to wash with, and another was an oil to put in my hair after I had washed it. He had made both himself.

I did not know how to explain what this meant to me. It was a strangely intimate offering. "Thank you," I said, simply.

"You have saved our army's best warrior, our general… and a close friend. For that, you may keep my hair oil. It is the least I can do."

"Really?" I said, grinning. He smiled at me.

"I must go and make our patient drink as much water as he can now. Enjoy your bath. It is most deserved."

He laid out some leggings and a tunic on the cot, and a sheet to dry myself with, put his hand to his heart and bowed before leaving. As I stripped I remembered that the Balrog Slayer had commented on my dirty dress. I only had a few that I rotated, and the heavy work I did often saw the work dresses frayed. However, that was no excuse for spilling stew on myself. Lind would be horrified!

Twenty minutes later, after I had washed my hair, and scrubbed myself with soap, I lay soaking in the bath. All the tension that had been in my muscles since the warg attack was washing away. I felt remarkably at peace and would have dozed off if I had stayed any longer. The water was beginning to cool anyway. I wrenched myself out of the bath and stretched. It is no exaggeration to say that I felt like a new person. As I dried myself off, I wondered what time it was. The leggings and tunic were very soft as I put them on, but felt hardy. They smelled amazing, floral but woody.

Usually, as soon as I had washed my hair, I braided it and tucked it back under my scarf, but I would let it hang down my back and air dry this time.

As I entered the tent, there was no sign of Elrond, Gil-galad or Thavron. Laurefindelë was still lying on the table with his eyes closed. I wondered if he was sleeping. I crept closer, trying not to wake him up, and looked at his wounds. Elrond's paste had worked wonders. The spidery black lines of poisoning had retreated, and the angry pink of the infected flesh was turning back to gold. I could not believe what we had accomplished in so short a time. I looked at his face, and his ears. His hair, so unlike Elrond's, was tied back in braids that exposed the delicate tip of his ears. I itched to touch them.

"What are you doing?" he snapped, his eyes opening, sitting up and eyeing me suspiciously.

"Checking your wounds, my lord," I looked up at him, a little scared by how quickly he had moved. I realised he had not recognised me.

"The Gondorian healer?" he said, horror on his face.

"I do not only heal Gondorians," I replied. I was a little hurt by how quickly he had forgotten me. "Now I have added elves to my repertoire," I joked.

"I thought you a child... You were so dirty before," he said, haltingly.

"The decorum of the Elves is unparalleled," I snapped, finally losing it with him.

"She has saved your life," said Elrond, entering the room holding a tray of food, followed by the captain.

"I'll take you back to camp, Mistress Healer," said the captain.

"We must then bid you farewell," said Elrond with a smile. "Your company leaves in an hour." I looked out the tent and saw that the sun was rising.

"Thank you for your kindness, Lord Elrond," I said in what I hoped was a polite manner.

"It is unlikely our paths will cross again, Mistress Healer," said the Balrog Slayer, who seemed quite happy about that. I'm not sure what I had done, but he seemed agitated by me. Did he know I was thinking about touching his ears? Perhaps he could feel my gaze on his face and was upset over it. "I owe you my thanks, Mistress Healer. I hope you have a long and happy life."

"Thank you," I said, a little stiffly. He did not like me overmuch, I thought, sadly. I was about to turn to go when I thought I had to ask. It was my last chance. "Would you tell me your name? We were not introduced," I asked. He looked surprised.

"It is Glorfindel." I was surprised, but it was a Sindarin name. I knew Quenya was an old fashioned language, so perhaps he used the Sindarin version unless he was with old friends like Elrond. It suited him, I thought. It was beautiful, but masculine.

"My name is Minnow. Farewell, Glorfindel. I hope you have a long and happy life." He gave me an odd look and I bowed like Elrond had done before, with my hand over my heart, and left the tent.

I was so exhausted by the time we got to the healer's tents, it was a relief to see that my friends had already taken down all the tents and did not need my help. Thavron ushered me into a wagon, and I lay down on a burlap sack next to the boxes of bandages, tucking my vials of hair oil and my dirty dress into my bag. I told him of what he had missed, as my hair dried in the sun and our march to our next destination began.

"Do not worry, Mistress Healer," said Thavron, walking beside me as I drifted into sleep. "Elves are strange, and take offence at the littlest of things. It's unlikely we'll ever see them again. At least you will be able to tell your grandchildren that you saved the Balrog Slayer!"